Last week, I attended Sweet Girl’s PPT for the extended school year’s and next school year’s IEP. Thankfully, they threw heaps of services at her again. I won’t go into detail this time, because that’s not what this entry is for.
This meeting, she didn’t want to attend. Would. Not. Do. It. She wouldn’t speak with me about it ahead of time, nor acknowledge me when I approached her about it. Normally we script it out and make lists, and we write down her concerns, issues, and wish list. The team takes it seriously. She flat refused this time. I reminded her that if decisions are made for her without her, or that she dislikes then it’ll be harder for her to understand. It would also mean she gets less say in the decisions. Nope. She wouldn’t come down from the classroom.
Afterwards I told her about it and how well it went. She nodded and “mmm hmm’d” and shook her head no when I asked periodically if she had questions. At the end I asked her if she had any thoughts she wanted to share.
“Did you… mmm… did you advocate me for no homework clubs after school next year? Because I am old enough. You make my day too long.”
I told her that while I knew she wanted to end that program, I advocated for her to keep it and that her team agreed. I won’t share her exact initial reaction except to say that she was very angry.
Then she demanded to know why, which doesn’t usually happen until hours later. First, I validated all of her feelings on this subject as usual. I often commiserate, as I don’t like working late if I feel I don’t need to do so. I don’t typically explain why she has to participate in the homework programs after school until a separate conversation. This time, I validated her feelings and commiserated, but then in the same conversation I logicked her. The reasons I give are always the same, and they’re reasons that I know she understands logically. I’m 95% certain that she agrees with them because she doesn’t tell me they’re not true. I’m also 95% certain that she really just doesn’t believe they’re as important as I do.
The fact is that if she doesn’t do her homework or work she couldn’t finish in class during her after school programs during Summit or Homework Club (one with peers, one with teachers) then the work wouldn’t get done at home. She also has her peers there to help her or to make the work more fun, just like group work. She really loves group projects and takes them seriously. She gets really involved from what her teachers say. There’s more structure there as well, and let’s face it… if she has to do the homework and unfinished classwork while still at school she can’t take an unlimited break or wander off while getting a snack. She can’t sneak away to her room. She can’t become a boneless child and forget how to use a pencil. She can’t go to a gaming site for Pokemon and tell me it’s really her Chrome Classroom. When pushed, school is school, home is home, as she likes to say, and never the two shall meet.
The problem has been that I’ve done more emotion-validating than I should have, I think. No… no that’s not quite right; I’ve commiserated more than I should have since she started balking at the homework programs. After all, if I can commiserate with her about it then how could I possibly make a decision she didn’t agree with? It’s like making a decision against myself. At the same time, I was trying to argue logic with emotions. It doesn’t stop me from asking if she at least understands what I’m saying even if she doesn’t agree, or if there was anything else she needed to say.
If I parented only by emotion, however, I’d be a crappy parent. I don’t even make my own life decisions based solely on emotion. I think things through often to the point of overthinking. If I parented based solely on what my children feel they want and decided they need, I’d be a crappy parent. When I agree with them and make decisions they agree with, I’m a wonderful mother. Disagree? I’m the worst mother in the world. That’s usually the worst insult Sweet Girl throws at me: You are the Bad Parent of the World. Essentially, I was expecting her to tell me that I was Momsplaining. Maybe she’d have been correct.
This time was different.
“You. Are not a good advocate.”
And then Sweet Girl walked away.